


a whisper's death, softly

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Bittersweet, Complicated Relationships, Depression, Eating Disorders, M/M, Melancholy, Mental Instability, Mild mentions of sexual content, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Poetic, Suicide mentions, Trauma, death imagery, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25640575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: he wishes he didn’t find komaeda’s self-neglect beautiful. he doesn’t want to. it’s just, he’s pretty, and he’s dying, and those aren’t mutually exclusive. and that damn near kills hinata, but. it can’t be fixed.he’s tried. he wonders if komaeda knows he tried.(hinata watches and cries over a beautiful ghost.)
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 5
Kudos: 86





	a whisper's death, softly

**Author's Note:**

> hinata romanticizes some things, here, sort of unconsciously. i don't think dying, or trauma, or mental illness, is something to be adored. it hurts. i'm... not particularly articulate right now, but i'm sorry if any perception of mental illness, here, is portrayed in a shitty way. please let me know, if it is.

komaeda is a past-tense ghost, and hinata studies every part of him.

the way he breathes so quietly, just a wisp, so much so that it’s hard to believe he’s breathing at all. the way he lies on the mattress, his knees lifted in a half-movement, with his ankles brushing hinata’s calves. the way he looks, in the darkness of the sunset, where his body shines in the moonlight.

(he’s naked. they both are. it’s more intimate, even if they’ve done nothing to each other. they aren’t grounded. instead, they’re breaking.

and god, hinata just hopes they’re breaking together.)

he’s so beautiful, hinata thinks. he’s so, so beautiful. 

he ends the silence, too.

“are you real?” he whispers softer than the rainstorm outside, the cold coming through the cracked windowsill, his entire body shivering. if hinata closes his eyes, with nothing but the other’s body, he can convince himself he’s more than a ghost. 

with his eyes open, though, it’s a stroke of idealism. komaeda’s skin is practically translucent, and hinata doesn’t remember the last time the other even glanced at dinner. (there are soda cans on the floor, though, a sign that he’s losing touch with the piece of him that’s orderly, and that scares him. it’s funny, being scared of something like crumpled plastic, but it’s all just a hint. a damning hint.) 

he’s something out of a dream, and hinata stopped dreaming a long time ago, but he’s… spectral. komaeda has always been a murmur of an endless pain, and his heart aches.

he doesn’t know what to say to that. he lets his lips press against komaeda’s pulse, frames it as happenstance, and he doesn’t think much beyond it. “i don’t know,” is what he settles on, and the little laugh komaeda gives him, undeniably sad, makes him tuck into his neck harder. he’s collapsing against him, but the other has always been the one more likely to shatter. like porcelain.

(he wishes he didn’t find komaeda’s self-neglect beautiful. he doesn’t want to. it’s just, he’s pretty, and he’s dying, and those aren’t mutually exclusive. and that damn near kills hinata, but. it can’t be fixed.

he’s tried. he wonders if komaeda knows he tried.)

“are you?” he asks redundantly. he knows the answer. he just… doesn’t want komaeda to stop talking, even if it’s just a second. (it’s moments like these where he’s not sure he could live without the other. and he knows it’s bad, is the thing, but he can’t mimic the healthiness he sees in fiction. or in reality, because the others are fine. it’s just, they don’t have to worry about dying, again.

it’s moments like these where he wonders if komaeda and him could ever love without dying.)

he shrugs with a pretty, pretty smile (his lips are too red. they might start bleeding. hinata hates how cute it is, when komaeda chews his lip. hinata just bites his nails harder.) “maybe not. sometimes, i still think we’re in the neo world program,” and, they’ve talked about it before. what they don’t talk about is how hinata put them there in the first place. or, well, kamukura. but it’s hard to blame him, these days. they discuss everything else, though. even when it’s a tired evening. “isn’t it odd? it’s much less sunny, now-” he strokes hinata’s cheek, “-but, it still feels like a dream.”

“is that how it felt?” hinata nestles closer, feels komaeda’s hair brush against his cheek. it’s growing long. it’s still soft. (he almost cries, then. it’s so, so  _ soft. _ )

“maybe.” komaeda never offers straightforward answers. likes to make hinata think. is, in turn, the only one that can calm hinata down. but, hinata doesn’t want to be calm, right now (he wants to riot, to burn and blister, but the melancholia weighs too heavy on his chest. like an injury. but, it won’t scar. when komaeda dies, he won’t be etched in hinata’s skin. he’ll just be nothing.) “my death didn’t feel like a dream. i remember it rather clearly, actually. i don’t remember much, but i’ll never forget  _ that.  _ feeling like i was more powerful than i was. more worthy of hope.”

_ you’re my hope,  _ hinata wants to say. but, komaeda’s not. he makes hinata feel hopeless, honestly, because he keeps trying to save him, and he  _ can’t. _ but, he wouldn’t consider him despair, either. hinata awakened komaeda, but the other is the one to breathe life into him. (and soon, he’ll stop breathing entirely).

he just nods, in the end, and komaeda giggles a bit more. (sometimes, he feels like a kid, against hinata. he wonders when komaeda had to grow up. if he ever was a child at all. if either of them were.). “are you tired, hinata-kun? i hope i’m not boring you.”

he sounds so sweet. when he says hinata’s name, that is. but. it hurts. “you aren’t,” he insists, even though he is bored. just a bit. more of the pain than komaeda, himself, because kamukura kind of fixates on him. like he’s beautiful, even though he’s a hollowed out skeleton (does he still think he’s too heavy? was that even the reason? why doesn’t hinata know? why doesn’t he ask?) “i’m not tired. but, you should get some sleep.”

“hinata-kun,” he pouts, and hinata gives in to a visceral piece of him, leaning up to kiss him. komaeda’s eyes widen innocuously, his murky irises sparkling. a blush finds its way across his pallor. hinata sighs, a bit, but it ends when he pulls away. “ah, hinata-kun? are you okay?”

he hums. he wonders if he could break komaeda so much he survives. but, hinata doesn’t want bones to join the soda cans on the hardwood. he’s seen enough vivisections. “yeah. you’re deprived, though. of sleep,” he’s quick to clarify. 

(what if komaeda kills himself? what then?)

“i want to talk to hinata-kun more, though. you’re always so  _ busy. _ ” komaeda’s fingers intertwine with his. “ever since i woke up, you’ve been pushing yourself so, so hard. i’m worried, and… the others are too. but, more than anything… i  _ miss  _ you.”

_ i want to slip beneath your skin and become a deep, selfish, wicked part of you. i want to write ink into your lips; i want to hold you so close we sink together, into something abandoned, something that isn’t beautiful. you’re so beautiful, but you’re dying, i always worked because i was trying to save you but i  _ **_can’t_ ** _ - _

he hides that thought into the corner of his mind. to protect the sanctity. “i know,” he says like a broken record. “but i’ll be here tomorrow.”

(he doesn’t know if komaeda will die in his sleep. he doesn’t know what he’d do after.

he almost sobs, but he knows the other will get concerned, and he can’t possibly articulate his thoughts. he doesn’t want komaeda to feel guilty over something he could never control. but, it’s not okay that he’s dying. not for hinata.)

komaeda smiles with ease.  _ after everything, how can you-  _ “just like that, hinata-kun?” he adjusts on the pillow, his hair splaying out, and hinata almost wants to push him down, crawl on top of him, take every piece of himself because this is the only way he’ll have him. even if komaeda dies. (but it’s not easy to do that. even if they both try. because, hinata gets too sincere too fast, and komaeda rushes into it fearing the worst. the worst part of it is the scratches and hickeys, because it always makes hinata cry). “okay. goodnight, then.”

hinata moves away, rests their temples together. komaeda always likes to rest his head just under hinata’s chin, but he wouldn’t be able to see his eyes dim, then. won’t be able to watch him, making sure he doesn’t die. so, here, it’s easier. even if the soft expression on his haunted face hurts more than anything. 

“goodnight,” he murmurs, reaching his hand out to play with the other’s hair. (he’ll cry, when komaeda is asleep. if he can convince himself to. if he isn’t too tired to let rivulets out.

he’s never seen komaeda cry. he’s gotten teary-eyed, before, when they watched a meteor shower together. or, when he is under hinata, sometimes. but, it’s never been more. maybe that’s why he feels so unreal. maybe that’s why hinata can never know him.)

the cicadas chirp when komaeda sleeps, his breaths light and hardly audible. hinata stays awake, watches him, tucks the same strand of hair behind his ear a hundred times until he can’t see anything, at all, sobs tearing from his chest quiet enough that the other doesn’t wake up (and if he did, he can blame it on exhaustion. or maybe he can’t). through it all, he watches, though the rain dies outside and he finds himself staring at a past-tense ghost. he’s sickened by komaeda’s beauty, even like this.

(when komaeda wakes up, hinata is still there, picking up the soda cans. neither say a word. they just curl together under the thin sheets, closing their eyes and thinking  _ i need you  _ and touching each other. through it all, komaeda is so, so pretty.

and it aches worse than anything.)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this within maybe an hour. things have been hard lately, i guess. i dunno.
> 
> love you.


End file.
